Charlie
by musicnotes093
Summary: During an investigation of a Staff Sergeant's murder, the star witness mistakes Tim as her grandson. As he learns more about her family, he forgoes what is necessary to fill the void that tears them apart. But will his acts of kindness be overcome by a dark secret that a certain person is hiding?
1. Prologue

**Title:** _"Charlie"_  
**Rating**: FR13  
**Genre:** Case Fic, Drama, Family, Friendship  
**Pairing(s):** none. . . besides mentions of OC/OC  
**Summary:** During an investigation of a Staff Sergeant's murder, the star witness mistakes Tim as her grandson. As he learns more about her family, he forgoes what is necessary to fill the void that tears them apart. But will his acts of kindness be overcome by a dark secret that a certain person is hiding?  
**WARNING:** Season 9 spoilers

* * *

**Prologue**

_A loud knock echoed through the house. The boy looked up from the polished wooden floor where he constructed a model ship to give as a present to his father when he comes home. Ignoring the thumps, he continued his work, checking the corresponding pieces with the manual to see if he was right. _

_"Don't you be opening that door!" his mother called out from the kitchen, audible enough to surpass the sizzling of the frying pan, the clamor of the small television, and the screams of her newborn child. _

_He didn't bother answering._

_Soon enough, heavy, dragging footsteps shook the ground. _

_He glanced at the figure that glided past him and decided to watch her as she opened the door with the hand left vacant from a baby. _

_Two men stood outside, clad in the same uniform his father used to wear whenever he left and came back home. His mother froze upon seeing them. She stared at the two men for a long time. Then, she shook her head slowly. "No," she said, shivering with sobs she held back. "Please. Don't."_

_"Mrs. McGee, we're very sorry," one of the men said. _

_His mother slammed the door. She remained still in her spot for some time before she gained awareness of the other things around her. She looked at her daughter, crying louder than she had previously, and then she kissed her gently on the forehead. She turned around then drew closer to her confused son. "Timothy, be strong. Be strong," she muttered._

_"Mom?"_

_She wrapped her other arm around him, drenching some of his hair with tears when she kissed him on the temple. "Dad's gone," she told him. "He's not coming back."_

_He blinked. His grandmother had told him before about the men that came. They were messengers, who delivered only bitter news to Navy families. _

_He took in some air as it all sunk in. He was to be the man of the house and be steadfast for his mother. _

_However, the next breath he took was a sharp gasp. His mother had tightened her grip on him and his baby sister as something exploded from their kitchen, sending them down to the ground. It rattled the house, producing debris of stones to shoot across the room. _

_He coughed as he lifted his head up. There were dusts everywhere, and a part of their living room was on fire. "Mom, are you alright?" he asked. _

_She maintained her position as a shield to her children._

_He rolled halfway to his side to face his mother. Her body slowly turned upside, revealing her wounded and the newborn in her charge disturbingly silent._

* * *

His eyelids slowly unraveled in the dark, revealing restless emerald eyes that were too worn of having seen the similar dream. Instantly, he knew sleep had fled away from him, and even its shadow was not bound to return until the conditions in his mind were favorable. Still, he kept motionless. He would rather take his chance with something that may never come than face a truth forthcoming about his subconscious lately that he did not want to deal with.

At that very early hour, he contented himself with darkness, as he had done for countless days before.

* * *

**To be continued. . . **


	2. Chapter One

**Thanks to karlii for her review, also to those who favorited and followed!**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter! **

* * *

**Chapter One**

Tim trekked across the garden area of Arden Courts, rubbing his right eye with the honesty of his annoyance on having come to work. The sleepless nights imparted to him by his horrid dream abandoned him to a sour disposition. He had considered calling off, perhaps take a much needed rest for one day to replenish his dwindling energy, but the inability to go back to bed changed that.

It had made him easily irritable. This became evident when Gibbs called him to tell him to head to Potomac, where the new crime scene was situated, and his only response was a half-grumbled "Sure" before hanging up.

He disliked it. He attempted to change this cross attitude during his twenty-five minute drive from Silver Spring to the site and instead exercise patience, but the nonsensical drivers who occupied the roads and the Interstate this Monday morning had him seething and boiling inside with angry retorts he decided to keep silent. The only remedy that seemed to work was preparing his mind to focus on the case at hand.

If Tony would refrain from bothering him about his mood today, he was confident that he would be able to get rid of the ill feelings he was holding.

Finding the team was not too hard to do. The courtyard was spacious enough, but with the increased number of people—investigators, caregivers, patients and concerned family members alike—sufficient room was slightly limited. He was able to spot Gibbs talking to who he presumed was the head of the facility. Uncertain what job must be done, he headed towards his way.

"And you felt the need to inform all of these people about what happened?" he heard Gibbs ask sardonically as he halted behind him.

"What do you expect me to do, Agent Gibbs? Let them hear about the situation through the five o'clock news?" the stout, balding man asked. He smirked. "You don't understand how finicky some of our clients are. They will find a problem to sue you for, and these ones we're talking about are filthy rich families. Having a murder happen in our backyard? They won't take that lightly."

"But now all of these people are riled up, and some of them had already contaminated my crime scene."

"I know. I understand, and I'm very sorry," the man said, the insolence shaping his thick eyebrows disintegrating to sincere apology. "But, you've got to understand. I have to protect my workers, too. They're already very shaken up about this, and I can't pit them against these worried families." He placed a hand on his hips, afterwards taking notice of the young man's presence behind the agent he was talking to.

Following his curious gaze, Gibbs swiveled around to glance at him. Before the younger agent could speak, he resumed his previous conversation. "Just make sure to tell your staff to stay clear," he told the man.

"Of course. I can even give you guys a hand with the families."

Gibbs nodded his appreciation, and the man took it as his cue to leave. "Mr. Kirsch," he called out before the facility overseer got far. The man turned around. "One more thing. I've been told there was a witness. Emma Storms? Where is she?"

"She's with Nurse Kendall."

"I need to talk to her."

"I could try getting them here, but," he grinned, "if her daughter-in-law's already here, you'd have to go through an eye of a needle to get to her." He turned around, not waiting for any response.

Gibbs and Tim watched Kirsch make his way inside the manor.

Uncomfortable, Tim cleared his throat. "Boss?" he began.

"Took you long enough, McGee," Gibbs said lightly. He turned around to look at him.

"Rush hour," he replied, sans feeling any need to elaborate.

Gibbs scanned Tim's expression for a quick second. The frustration and defensiveness, coupled with a shadow of misery and exhaustion told him to let the young man be. "Tony's started talking to people, Ziva's on photo duty," he said. "Ducky's with the body. Palmer's still out on leave."

Tim turned around, and soon he found the medical examiner kneeling next to the body, a few feet away from a smaller tree, taking out the liver probe from his bag.

"See if he needs any help," Gibbs finished.

Tim curtly nodded before walking briskly towards Ducky. He didn't know what assistance he could be to him, but he preferred doing this work rather than going with the rest of the team. The scenario seemed to be getting worse with all of the eyes watching and scrutinizing them, and the last thing he wanted was to snap and blow up towards the bystanders.

His arrival was easily noticed by Ducky, who, though he managed by himself, struggled a bit with his work. The older man lifted his eyes, and it was quickly followed by a friendly smile on his face. "Timothy," he said. "May I help you with anything?"

"That's actually the question I meant to ask you, Ducky," Tim said. He squatted down across him. His lips curled with the tiniest, but sincerest, of smiles. "Gibbs sent me here to see what you need."

Ducky adjusted the probe and waited for the gauge to settle. "Well, that is very kindly of him," he uttered, "but with the situation he needs to control, I thought you would be better working there with them."

"I think he got it." Tim took in the medical examiner's tired countenance, yet he chose not to comment on it. Instead, he took out the finger print scanner from his backpack. "You, though—you can't do all of the heavy hauling by yourself. Your cardiologist wouldn't be so happy."

Ducky laughed lightly. "No, he would not," he lukewarmly agreed.

Tim was able to sense his hesitation to address the matter, so he diverted from the topic. "So, what's his story?" he nodded towards the cadaver as he pressed its index finger on the scanner.

"As far as story goes, I still do not know," Ducky responded. "But, if you are asking about the information called in to Jethro this morning, this young man was shot…" he calculated the temperature reading on the probe, "four hours ago. Like what was reported. Anyways, the residents were awoken by a gunshot. Nurses on duty hurried out to the halls, and they found this man lying out here while one of the patients stood inside, watching. They called 911 while trying to keep him alive, but he passed before the call was even finished."

The gadget in Tim's hand beeped. The man's identity appeared on the screen. "Staff Sergeant Logan Meadows," he said. "Forty-three years old, lives here in Potomac." He turned his gaze from the screen to the body. The reminiscence of his dream softened the hard, ponderous expression on his features. The ring on the body's finger was telling on the arduous task they had to face: informing his wife that he would not be with her anymore.

Ducky witnessed the shadow of dread and hurt darken the young man's orbs. He wrinkled his brows. "Is there anything wrong, Timothy?"

Realizing the attention on him and the probable reason why, he shook his head. "Oh, uh, nothing," he lied. "I'm just a little sleepy still. That's all."

"Huh," Ducky raised his eyebrows incredulously. Having cleaned his materials, he organized them back in his bag. "I am no Leroy Jethro Gibbs, but I do have times when I definitely know when someone's covering up something." Tim shot him a curious glance. "The eye bags you've been nurturing also tell me that it has something to do with the thought that seemed to frighten you when you were looking at Staff Sergeant Meadows earlier."

It took some strength for Tim to conceal the proverbial giveaway look from emerging. "It's nothing, Ducky. Really. It's not that important."

Ducky stood up. "Nightmares can only be kept in silence for some time, young lad. And if you keep it with your secrets, it will keep you with its misery." He smiled while Tim averted his gaze. "I'm going to get the gurney. I will be back."

"No, Ducky, I'll…" Tim stood up, apprehensive of giving himself away, "I can go get it for you. No heavy lifting, remember."

Ducky thought about it, though still observant of the young man's behavior. He nodded. "Alright," he agreed. "That would be greatly appreciated."

Tim swiveled on his heels to head back to the parking lot. The last thing he wanted was for someone to notice what kept him restless. He should have known better. Dealing with deaths was part of his work, and today could not have been any different.

The sick feeling of inadequacy and discomfort that he had years ago as a probationary agent threatened to resurface within him, but his resolve to avoid those moments in the future erased that. It was already bad enough that his actions earlier diminished Gibbs' and Ducky's confidence in him. For events to take an odd turn because of his presence would be horrendous.

He passed by Gibbs and Tony on his way, where they conversed with a nurse, an elderly lady on her side. "McGee," Gibbs called to him, halting him in his tracks. Tim turned around. "What did Ducky say?"

"T.O.D's four hours ago," Tim responded, sauntering back to join them. "Our dead guy is Staff Sergeant Logan Meadows. Ducky confirmed that he was shot."

"Oh, man. That's sad," the blonde, petite nurse, who Tim assumed was Nurse Kendall, breathed out. "If we knew that was going to happen…"

"Why was Staff Sergeant Meadows' visit accommodated?" Tony inquired. "Three o'clock is too early for visitations, isn't it?"

"Well, Mr. Meadows called two days ago. He said he wanted to see Mrs. Storms today. He told us that he needed to see her as early as possible. I don't know how, but he seemed to know that Mrs. Storms is usually awake during very early hours of the morning." Nurse Kendall regarded her patient with sympathy, but it was lost on the older woman who had only noticed Tim. "We called her daughter-in-law about it. She gave him permission."

"How did he end up outside?" Gibbs asked.

"He said he needed to make a phone call, so he stepped out in the garden."

"And Mrs. Storms followed him."

"Yeah, pretty much," Nurse Kendall nodded. "I had to leave him and her for a minute—but I was checking up on them constantly!—because they were talking about something important that Mr. Meadows didn't want anyone to know about."

"Did you hear anything important when you walked by?" Tony asked.

"Charlie," the elderly lady said quietly as she smiled up to Tim.

Four pairs of eyes shot towards her direction. "What's that, Mrs. Storms?" Nurse Kendall asked.

"Charlie." She shrugged off Nurse Kendall's hold on her before walking weakly towards Tim. Meanwhile, the younger man looked at the other two agents beside him, but they were as perplexed as he was. She took both of his hands into hers then stared at him delightedly in the eyes. "You came home, sweetheart," she said.

"Ma'am, I'm not Charlie," Tim corrected her kindly. "My name is—"

"You still haven't changed," she continued, reaching up to touch his face with a shaky hand. "Still looks like your father." She nodded weakly. "That's good. That's good. Your father was very handsome. That's good."

Tim's heart thumped with both nervousness and sympathy. There was something in her demeanor that communicated the deepest of regrets and yearning to make it right. It was honest, and he wasn't quite certain whether it was correct to accept what was intended for someone else.

Nurse Kendall moved to hold back her patient, but the sob that escaped the elder lady as she looked up to Tim stopped her short.

"I am so sorry, sweetheart. So sorry," she cried. "Logan said I'd see you again. Know that I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm really sorry. I won't turn you away again, Charlie. I'm very sorry."

Nurse Kendall glanced at Gibbs and Tony. "I think we've had enough for the day, Agents Gibbs," she said as she mildly led her patient away. "I think Mrs. Storms is exhausted. I don't want her to get overwhelmed."

"Charlie. Sweetheart," she murmured.

"Just, please come back later when she's gotten rested," Nurse Kendall finished. Afterwards, she helped a hesitant Mrs. Storms into the building.

Soon, it was only Gibbs, Tony, and a very confused Tim who were left outside.

"McGee?"

Tim opted silence, which he thought was the best answer to all the recent questions in his life.

* * *

**To be continued. . .**


	3. Chapter Two

**Sorry for the delay! I've been a little busy with some other stuff, but I'm back! Thanks to torontogirl12, Gottahavemyncis, and karlii, as well as those who read, followed, and favorited! :D**

**Please enjoy these next two chapters!**

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Everybody in the team was already busy with several tasks even before they got back to the bullpen. Gibbs assigned each of them a job, and then he left for MTAC to contact Staff Sergeant Meadow's superiors and to ask a few questions. Tony and Ziva were focused on their work albeit seemingly oblivious to the incident that happened earlier.

That satisfied and worried Tim at the same time. He was still slightly embarrassed, and he was glad that no one was bringing it up. It was odd, to say the least. Of course, he felt sorry for Mrs. Storms, especially with the mistaken tears she shed for seeing him. However, the lopsided grin that Tony had on his face whenever he looked at him made him feel unkind. Gibbs had glared the senior agent out of it, and that stopped the jokes that he knew was forthcoming.

But, upon looking at the clock on his computer, three hours of silence from Tony was foreboding.

"Okay. Thanks," Tony said then hung up the phone. He looked up from his computer, and Tim almost feared he would start bothering him about what happened. In contrary, the senior agent only said, "They were right. Mrs. Storms' daughter-in-law is very difficult to deal with."

Ziva's brows furrowed. "What happened?" she asked.

"I called Arden Courts to ask if we could come again this afternoon to interview her about what she saw," Tony related. "Apparently, younger Mrs. Storms heard about what happened because older Mrs. Storms had the family lawyer called to change a document."

"Which is…?"

"Last Will and Testament," he replied. "She insisted that she had to make some changes. The lawyer, one Gale Abernathy, was concerned about the sudden decision, so he called the younger Mrs. Storms. I called him, see if he could pay us a visit, but his phone was busy. I tried to call Mrs. Storms. The maid answered, and after a while of having her as our middleman—or middle_woman_—she took the phone, scolded me to stop bothering her, and then said that if I want anything, call their lawyer. Then she slammed the phone."

Tim raised his eyebrows. "And you thanked her for that?" he asked.

"No, McNosy," Tony responded. "I was thanking Kirsch. He really wanted to help us out, but apparently the daughter-in-law and the lawyer banned us from seeing her anytime soon. He apologized for it but really, there's nothing any of us can do at the moment."

"Do you think the two of them have anything to do with it?" Ziva asked both men.

"Sounds like it. I'm sure we'll find out soon," Tony commented.

"What did you find about Staff Sergeant Meadows, Ziva?" Tim inquired.

"Not much from what we already have." She clicked a button in her keyboard, causing her findings to pop up on the large screen. "He was well-liked by the people in his platoon. He just came home from a tour in Iraq three weeks ago. The ones that I talked to said that he was very sharp and responsible, but apparently, after he came back, he was getting sleepless and depressed. They took him to a doctor, and they found out he had PTSD."

"Maybe he came to Mrs. Storms to talk to her about it," Tony spoke out, whereas Tim had suddenly gotten quiet and reserved.

"It is possible. But, why would he want to see her that early in the morning?"

Tony frowned as he pondered over it. "Why would he?" he asked, inquiring mostly himself. "Did you get a hold of any of his family members?"

"His wife," Ziva responded. "She said she would come down here as soon as possible."

Tony was quiet for a while. "I don't see any motives," he muttered. "Unless he has some big amount of money stashed somewhere?"

"No. The Meadows' only have enough to live by," Tim shook his head. "I checked his bank accounts, and there's not much. Although, the Storms—" he pushed a button to pull up a website page on the screen, "they're filthy rich. They used to own an oil company, and it used to be one of the Fortune 500 companies when they had it. The founder, Wesley Storms, was Mrs. Emma Storms' son. He ran the company for a few years, and when he got married to Ava McClanahan, both of them oversaw it while raising their nephew and their son. One year before he passed away because of a massive heart attack, they sold the company and built another. They turned to clean energy resources, including manufacturing of eco-friendly devices. They earned a lot of money in there, too. Right now, it's being run by their nephew, Dennis Rike."

Ziva narrowed her eyes. "Wait. Why doesn't their son run the company?" she asked.

Tim shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "But it _is_kinda weird. The site mentioned they have a kid, but other than that it doesn't say anything else."

"Maybe there's some connection between that and with Staff Sergeant Meadow's death."

"Probably," Tony chimed in. "Maybe he knew something that younger Mrs. Storms and Abernathy didn't want the elder Mrs. Storms to know."

"That, or Staff Sergeant Meadows knows about a highly-sensitive information that his enemies wanted him to die with," Gibbs said as he strode in the bullpen.

"Boss?" Tony said.

"I just got off from a conference with Sergeant Major Cromwell," Gibbs said as he settled on his desk. "Meadows had been suspected of espionage for some time. They confronted him about it, he denied it. He said that lately, Meadows seemed a bit paranoid. Wanted to tell them something but couldn't."

"But why would he run to Mrs. Storms?" Tony asked.

"Your guess is as good as mine, DiNozzo," Gibbs replied. "That's why we need to talk to her." His phone then rang. "Yeah. Gibbs," he picked up.

The wait for Gibbs' instructions brought a menacing urge to Tony. With a grin, he swiveled towards the younger agent to his right. "Speaking of Mrs. Storms," he began, "Charlie? What is that, your nickname? I didn't think you were that desperate, Tim. Prying on little old ladies."

Tim stared at him icily, though inside he was mildly shrinking. "Something is wrong with you, Tony," he shot back simply.

"Clearly," Ziva verified, halting the triumphant sneer stretched fully across Tony's lips. She crossed her arms when Tony turned to her slightly challengingly.

"Ziva, DiNozzo," Gibbs spoke after closing shut his phone. "Why don't you pay Mrs. Storms a visit? Tell her NCIS is inviting her over."

"But, Boss, they banned us from seeing her," Tim pointed out, exchanging glances with his other teammates.

"Not Emma Storms, McGee," Gibbs said as he stood up. "The other one. Maybe she'd reconsider letting us see her mother-in-law."

Tim gave a hint of a nod as a response. Tony and Ziva followed the order given to them and walked back to their desks to retrieve their badges and weapons before going on their way out. Gibbs made his way towards the elevator without another word, perhaps to see Abby who might have been the one who called him.

Finding himself alone, Tim decided to resume his work, wondering what would be the best route to go next.

The relative placidness surrounding him awakened the memories that he was hoping to avoid. One to come up was the way their primary witness spoke to and held him. As oppose to Tony's malicious hint, Mrs. Storms seemed to regard him like he was someone she owed a great debt to, as if she begged for redemption for a wrongdoing. Her hug—she encased him in her arms like how Penny would. Perhaps it was why he felt so much empathy for her.

Then again, the elderly lady was only fooled by her mind. Witnessing a shooting more than likely left her shaken. The incident submerged her in a nightmare, and she was barely awake when she saw him.  
Yet, he doubted it could be any worse than what Mrs. Meadows would have to go through.

_No. Please. Don't._

"McGee."

_Timothy, be strong. Be strong…_

Mom?

_Dad's gone… _

"McGee." Gibbs' louder call snapped him out of his thoughts. He turned around, unaware of the anxious, faraway expression shadowing his eyes. Hints of wrinkles shaped Gibbs' eyebrows. "Anything wrong?"

Tim shook his head.

"Go see what Ducky found."

Tim nodded. He got up from his seat, and then he walked towards the elevator.

His lifelessness and moroseness didn't escape Gibbs' notice. The young man had been switching in and out of that mood for a few days now, and he'd been watching. Should it frequent, he might have to talk him out of it. Not just because it could distract both of them, but because what underlay the fear in the young man's eyes deeply troubled him.

* * *

**To be continued. . . **


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Four**

Ava tilted the watering jug in her hand accurately, elevating it only so that the spout would only be a few inches from kissing the white hibiscuses with a strong hue of red bleeding inwards the petals. Unlike many of their neighbors, she preferred nurturing the flowers in her garden by pulling up her sleeves and doing the work with her own hands. She didn't see the use of adoring such beautiful creations if it was watered by a machine or cared for by gardeners. It was something that was a given for her but a riddle to her friends.

She didn't know why. She had been this way towards the things she wanted to accomplish, whether it be the business or a goal she desired to reach. It was never an option to leave it up to other people. This had been a part of her life that she didn't mind being selfish in.

Like motherhood.

Given, when she was raising her child, she was a little neglectful with everything else. Her focus could only be occupied by one thing only before. Now, since her husband and her little angel had gone, she had learned to double—even triple—task.

Yet, with her mother-in-law's repeated insistence on seeing Charlie again, her attention on things had tilted askew. She demanded that Abernathy change her will, after having seen the boy. They thought that her medications had driven her to delusion, but her nurse affirmed that she had spoken to one of the agents, but it was only because she mistook him for another man.

_Change it. Change it. Change it!_Mama had screamed at them earlier when she and Abernathy visited her.

_Calm down, Mrs. Storms. It's okay, _her nurse placed her hands on the elder lady's arms.

_Mrs. Storms, you could get yourself sick,_ Abernathy calmly told his client._ Please. Settle down._

_Change it! It all belongs to Charlie, _Mama had cried. _Just change it!_

_Okay, okay,_ Abernathy said. _I will change it. We'll make sure Charlie gets what you're leaving him._

Mama continued to cry. Before the nurse took her back to the bed, she grabbed her daughter-in-law's arm. _He's really back, Ha-va. Charlie visited me today, _she said, nodding her head.

_I know he did, Mama, _she half-heartedly agreed. _I know he did._

_Still handsome like his Dad. That's good._

_Why don't you lie down, hmm?_ she led her to her bed. _If he visited again, you don't want to be tired._

_No, no, _Mama whined as she rested back to her bed.

She nodded.

_Logan said we'd see him again. He said he was alive, Ha-va._

She smiled bitterly. If only it was true. _I know._

_Logan was so young to die,_ Mama mumbled. _Too young. If it wasn't for that man._

The terror she felt upon hearing her say that overwhelmed her again. _Mama? You really saw who did it?_

_That tall, dark-haired man killed him. With the glowing jacket. Logan's too young._

The three people inside the room exchanged scared looks.

He did say they would be coming for us if we knew. He's too young.

_Crick._

The crunching sound that startled the sanity out of her almost made her scream in terror. However, the fake nonchalance and courageousness in the face of harrowing situations that her husband engraved in her kicked in. The only give away of the change in her demeanor was her raised eyebrows when she turned around.

Her attitude quickly morphed from fright to vexation when she saw Abernathy eyeing the snapdragons that he had ran over with the small luggage he tugged with him. She resumed watering the other flowers, maintaining her calm though inside she was in rage. "Why don't you quit making my flower bed like your career in Law, Abernathy?" she asked.

"I'm really sorry, Mrs. Storms," the man sincerely apologized. "I didn't know."

"Hm." Ava glanced at him, scanning him up and down with a glare. "What, is it time to collect your commission from me?"

"No, I was just dropping by before I go back to the office to ask you about what Mrs. Storms, um, asked me to do. Should I change it?"

Ava stopped what she was doing then put a hand on her hips in irritation. "Look at me then look at yourself. Who between the two of us is the lawyer?"

"Let's not do this, Mrs. Storms," Abernathy replied. "You know that between the two of us, you're the one who has the say in this. I can't just assume."

"Well, if you grew a brain, you'd know, wouldn't you?"

Abernathy sighed after the woman walked to the other side of her garden. "Mrs. Storms, a yes or a no would suffice," he said, following her. "The sooner I get your answer, the sooner I'd be out of here."

Ava turned sharply around, and the venom in her gaze convinced Abernathy that she was on edge, ergo, deadly. "Do what you've told her! 'Cause honest to whoever, I cannot face her again knowing that we lied to her."

"So you want me to transfer all of what she has. To Charlie," Abernathy repeated.

"Yes, Abernathy. Yes. Now go away and leave me," Ava waved him off.

"But, all of those possessions would go to a person who's been long gone," Abernathy pointed out.

Ava sighed. "You know, Aris Napoli had been begging me to be our representative. He's a bright young man, Gale, and you're very expendable," she threatened. "If you have been doing your job properly, you would have remembered that she stated in her Will, too, that if Charlie is not able to get the money, Dennis will."

Abernathy tried his hardest not to lose his temper with his client. He breathed deeply when she turned back to her plants. Perhaps it was not a good idea after all to talk to her about other documents. "I will see you soon, Mrs. Storms," he said, and then he sauntered away.

"Tell the maids not to let anyone in to see me today, will you?"

"So, does that mean that you don't want to see your favorite nephew today?"

Ava swiveled around. Her expression was remarkably brightened by the sight of the young man, clad in a business suit that complimented his green eyes and black hair. "Dennis," she smiled, her hands outstretched towards him.

Dennis accepted the invitation to embrace. "What are you doing out here today, Mom?" he asked as he let go. "It's terribly hot."

"Oh, you know. Just attending to my flowers," Ava said. "I was a little stressed, so I had to do something."

Dennis saddened. "I heard about what happened to Logan," he said. "That's why I had left the office early. How's Grandma doing?"

"She's very shaken, very shaken. There were some Navy cops there earlier, but I think they just made Mama feel worse."

"Really? How come?"

"They asked her all of these questions about what she saw. They were trying to talk to her again, but I wasn't going to have it."

Dennis nodded morosely. "She didn't see the guy, did she?"

"You mean whoever offed Logan? Unfortunately, she did."

"She described him?"

Ava nodded. "Yes. She told us how he looked, but I don't think she's told those cops. That's why they were bothering us."

"Are you going to let them talk to Grandma?"

"No."

"Alright," Dennis said. "I understand, but you'd have to let them soon, Mom. Even just bit by bit. Poor Chloe needs closure from what happened to Logan. "

Ava smiled.

The conversation was broken when one of the maids opened the sliding door to the garden, in her tow were a tall, sandy-haired man, perhaps of Charlie's age, and a beautiful, middle-eastern woman. "Mrs. Storms?" the maid began timidly. "There are people who want to speak with you."

The man took a step forward first. "I'm Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo," he introduced. He gestured to his partner. "This is Special Agent Ziva David. We're from NCIS. You mind if we ask you some questions, ma'am?"

Abernathy and Dennis both looked at Ava, whose expressions could not have been blanker. Then, she opened her mouth, with her brows raised in contempt. "As long as I get to ask mine, I don't see why not," she said.

Tony stepped forward. "We called Arden Courts to ask whether it was okay to see Mrs. Storms for another interview, and they told us that you had forbidden—"

"Are you the pesky man that kept calling my lawyer and me?" Ava asked.

"We tried reaching your lawyer, and I called you, yes," Tony responded cautiously.

"Didn't I tell you not to bother us anymore with this?" Ava demanded. "My mother-in-law, in case you haven't figured it out by now, is a sickly old woman. I don't need any of you people appearing whenever you want to tire her out."

"Mrs. Storms, you are aware that refusal to cooperate with us could count as obstruction of justice," Ziva pointed out. "Maybe even more."

Ava replied with a weak, wily smile. "Then I'll see you in court," she said. The faint surprise she sensed from the two was enough to stop the conversation. Meanwhile, the phone inside the house rung loudly. "Now leave. I don't want you in my property."

"Mom," Dennis walked up to her. "Don't be like this. You'd get in trouble." He turned to the two agents uneasily, though his sight wasn't trained directly at their faces. "Look. Agent DiNozzo, David, I—You have to excuse my aunt. She's just worried about Grandma."

"Don't ask pardon for me, Dennis," Ava chided. "I don't need it. Plus, they are about to leave, anyways."

Tony and Ziva didn't fall away from her glare, but admittedly, the older woman intimidated them to a degree. The two swiveled around with reluctance and light hostility after a while, deciding to pick up this battle at another time.

"Oh, and by the way," Ava called after them, causing them to look back, "I recommend that you don't pull anymore stunts with my mother-in-law. I heard about the incident with one of your agents pretending to be Charlie. Don't you _ever_dare do that again."

Tony resumed marching out of the house, while Ziva took more time to puzzle herself with the anger emanating from Ava. She was offended, but hurt at the same time, which made her wonder what Charlie—whoever he was—meant to this family.

"Mrs. Storms! Mrs. Storms!" a teary maid thundered past the partners.

"What, Isabella? What is it that's so important you have to call my name twice?" Ava fired. "You know how I hate that!"

"Arden Courts is on the phone, Mrs. Storms," the maid sobbed as she handed her the phone.

Dread froze Ava's heart as the young woman's disposition began to make sense. Behind her, Abernathy frowned in curiosity. Dennis only watched.

"Madam is gone, Mrs. Storms," the maid expounded. "They said she just had a heart attack and she's gone."

Ava gasped. She grabbed the phone from her, incredulous. "Yes. Hello?" she spoke to the other person. "This is Ava Storms."

* * *

The door to the Autopsy Room hissed ajar as Tim walked in. The familiar scent of alcohol and a hint of bleach, plus the sight of the medical examiner occupying himself with their new victim, welcomed him. "Ah, Timothy! Good. You are here," Ducky said as he moved around to the other side of the table.

Tim frowned. "How did you know I was coming down here and not Gibbs, Ducky?" he asked. "He called you."

"You two have different strides, dear boy," Ducky answered, watching the young man regard the body quickly as he settled.

"Oh," Tim said. Looking at the medical examiner, he noticed the warning of inquiry in his eyes, and he was confident that it wasn't the kind what he would call comfortable. "Well, Gibbs sent me to ask if you have any findings yet," he said in hopes of diverting his attention.

"Of course." Ducky pointed as he explained. "Our Staff Sergeant sustained a gunshot wound. The bullet severed his right atrium and damaged the aorta and pulmonary artery before lodging to the scapula. It resulted in substantial blood loss, so I do not think any aid would have saved his life even a little. He was killed by the impact, so he didn't suffer much."

Tim stared at the body. "So whoever did this really knows what they were doing," he commented.

"I would think so," Ducky agreed.

"Do you have the bullet?"

Ducky took a sealed container bearing a small, crumpled piece of metal from the table behind him, and then he handed it to Tim.

Tim took it. "I'll get this to Abby," he said. "Thanks, Ducky."

Ducky watched as he turned and walked away, but the concern that brewed in him pushed him to speak. "Timothy." He walked closer when the young man turned around. "How are you doing?"

A mild frown formed on Tim's face. "Um, I'm alright, I guess," he responded with a chuckle.

"I meant about the bombing a few months ago," Ducky corrected. The smile on Tim's face faltered, and it was enough answer. "I am not one to pry into people's lives, but I am concerned. The rest of your team had gone in for a psych evaluation. Even Jethro. But you."

"I. . . I just haven't gotten to it. Just, busy with the cases," Tim lied through a weak, lopsided grin.

Ducky stared deeply at him.

The feigned delight died from him for the second time. He sighed. "I don't see the need to, that's all," he said truthfully. "I just broke an arm. Other people were severely hurt and, some. . . some people died. It's not equal. What I think about what happened doesn't really matter. It's not a necessity to tell someone about it."

"Don't deceive yourself," Ducky said. "You've been apparently greatly affected." He pointed at his eyes. "By whatever it is that's in you."

Tim shook his head. "It's nothing. I'll break out of it soon."

Ducky knew that a little more push could draw the young man's minute trust away from him. "Have you at least talked to any of your loved ones about it?" he asked instead.

"No. They're busy with Sarah's graduation," Tim replied. "And I'm a grown man. I can take care of myself."

Ducky nodded after a while, seeing that he could not persuade him otherwise.

Tim smiled at the medical examiner, evincing that he harbored no bitter feelings from his sentiments, and then he walked out to the elevator.

He was truthful when he said that what he sustained from the accident was nothing short of unimportant. Whereas Gibbs and Abby had their lives put in danger, Tony and Ziva had their health at risk for a good week, and Ducky had a massive heart attack that—thankfully—didn't harm him very much physically, he had a broken arm and a mild concussion. He was the fortunate guy who got to live instead of the agent who had a wife and four kids waiting for him at home and the agent who was three months pregnant. Anger did not even begin to describe what he felt at first, but over time he had come to accept that there was nothing he could have done.

Yet, there was an uncertain sensation buried underneath his being that remained a stranger to him. It could easily be non-significant, and even if it was, he was sure that no one—not even himself—could help him understand and defeat it. At least not soon.

* * *

**To be continued. . .**


End file.
